


(don't wanna miss) this kiss

by PeppyBismilk



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Feelings Realization, Fluff and Angst, Holidays, Kissing, Kissing Booths, M/M, Mistletoe, Sylvain Kisses Everyone, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21906331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeppyBismilk/pseuds/PeppyBismilk
Summary: Every student at the academy has to complete a charity project of their own choosing to teach them aboutthe true meaning of the holidays(or however the professor put it). Naturally, Sylvain decides to have a kissing booth. It's a win-win situation, except for one little hiccup: he can't seem to land the one kiss that matters.
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/Sylvain Jose Gautier, Sylvain Jose Gautier & Everyone
Comments: 8
Kudos: 106
Collections: Sylvain Week Christmas Prelude 2019





	(don't wanna miss) this kiss

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day two of the Sylvain Week Holiday Prelude, Mistletoe.

“A kissing booth?” Ingrid turns around in her seat and cocks an eyebrow so high her bangs swallow it. 

“Yep.” Sylvain leans back and crosses his arms behind his neck. “It’s the holiday season, so I gotta give the people what they want.”

“No one wants herpes,” Felix mutters, not even trying to sidestep Sylvain’s elbow as he pushes through to his seat. 

“Hey, all the proceeds go to charity!” There’s no point in rising to Felix’s bait; Felix speaks without thinking and Sylvain has long since stopped taking it personally.

“It’s not too late to come with me to the homeless shelter.” Ingrid’s stern expression makes it seem like more than just a suggestion. “They can always use more help.”

Sylvain sits up straight and waggles a finger in front of Ingrid’s nose. “Ah, but see, the point of the assignment was to do our own charity projects! It doesn’t count if I just piggyback off of yours.” 

“The point of charity is to do some good, not kiss as many girls as you can,” Ingrid mutters.

“Hey, I’m just using my Goddess-given gifts to spread some holiday cheer.” And Sylvain’s willing to kiss anyone, not just girls, but he doesn’t bother correcting her. “If it makes you feel better, I’ll donate the money to the soup kitchen.”

Ingrid narrows her eyes. “Where were you going to donate it,  _ Sylvain’s Hot Date Fund _ ?” 

“Oh, please. I just use my family’s money for that. I was going to donate it to the animal shelter.” Sylvain turns around in his seat to face Felix, who’s glaring at his open textbook. “That’s where Felix is doing his charity project, isn’t that right?”

Felix turns that glare on him instead. Wait, no. He’s glaring at someone over Sylvain’s head. Sylvain turns around again—Dimitri. Of course. Sylvain keeps smiling.

“That’s right,” Felix growls. “You should come, boar. It’s a no-kill shelter, but I bet they’d make an exception for you.”

Dimitri takes his seat next to Ingrid. He knows Felix as well as Sylvain does, maybe better, and he says, “I’m afraid I’ll be busy volunteering at the nursing home that day.”

“Do they know what a—”

“See, Ingrid?” Sylvain cuts off the retort Felix will certainly regret later. “We’re all playing to our strengths.”

“What really matters is that it's for a good cause,” Mercedes puts in with a smile. Sylvain’s always liked her. She knows how to read a room. “I’m hosting a bake sale.”

“Oh, I can bring some goodies for that,” says Ashe. “I’m cooking for the local soup kitchen, but I always have time to make sweets.”

“I can’t help you bake, but I always have time to buy sweets!” Annette grins and adds, “My project was collecting clothes for a service that provides workwear to people applying for jobs.” 

“That’s a great idea,” Ingrid chimes in. “Do you need any—”

Annette’s big eyes go even wider. “I’m actually all set on clothes, thanks! We don’t need any of yours!”

“I was going to ask if you needed help moving them,” Ingrid says through gritted teeth.

Dimitri clears his throat to ease the tension. “What about you, Dedue?”

Everyone turns to him and seconds drag by before he responds, “I’ve joined a group that builds homes for people in need. But I would also like to make some desserts for the bake sale.”

“There you have it!” Sylvain dusts his hands off like the hard part’s already done and shoots Ingrid a winning smile. “We’re all putting our gifts to work for good causes. Besides, the professor already approved all of our projects so they must be okay.”

As if on cue, Professor Byleth walks in and everyone shuts up. Sylvain can feel Ingrid’s eyes burning into him, her thoughts stabbing his brain like daggers:  _ The professor approved your project, but that doesn’t mean you’ll pass.  _ Or maybe those are his own thoughts.

Sylvain shrugs. It’ll be fine. 

The Golden Deer and the Black Eagles have the same assignment, so the school ends up making a charity fair out of it. 

“Won’t that just divide the amount of money people can give?” Felix asks. It’s a good point but Sylvain nudges him in the ribs. 

“Spoilsport.” 

Annette shakes her head. “We’re not being graded on the amount of money we raise or the time we spend, silly.”

“Right.” Felix curls his lip. “We’re being graded on  _ goodwill _ and  _ holiday cheer.  _ Because those are things you can measure. ” Sarcasm drips from his tongue.

“Relax!” Sylvain throws an arm around his shoulder. “If you’re short on cheer, just come help me out in the kissing booth.”

The repulsed look Felix shoots him cuts so deep that Sylvain’s smile does falter this time. Is Felix upset at the thought of kissing Sylvain or the thought of kissing strangers? The thought of Sylvain kissing strangers? It doesn’t matter, because Felix stalks away without another word.

Sylvain shakes it off. Literally. “You’ll come by, won’t you, Annette?”

“No promises,” says Annette, cheeks coloring adorably. “But I’ll think about it!” 

Sylvain sets up his wooden sign board on two posts and puts a basket on top of his table. As a finishing touch, he tapes a sprig of mistletoe to the sign. There’s nothing like a festive tradition to get people in the mood. 

For the first hour, business is pretty steady. It’s the usual suspects.

“Allegra!” Sylvain calls. “How’s my best girl?”

Allegra buys it because she’s still new and lets him kiss her cheek. “I’m a little jealous of all the kisses you’ll be giving out today.”

Sylvain shoots her his best smoulder and a line he’s used at least four times today. “Yours is the only kiss that matters, baby.” 

She giggles and skips off, and Sylvain moves  _ Break it off with Allegra _ to the top of his mental to-do list.

Word gets around fast, and by ten o’clock in the morning, a girl with a name Sylvain can’t recall storms up with a backhand he’ll never forget.

“That’s for my sister,” she growls, then slaps his other cheek. “And that’s for me!”

Sylvain rubs his face. “Sorry, okay! At least throw down some money for a good cause, okay?” 

Every coin counts—even the ones that come flying at his head. 

Delaney and Jasleen try to punch him in the stomach, the blonde from History just glares at him, and a guy he’s pretty sure he’s never seen in his life just utters, “You know what you did.”

All in all, it’s a typical day. 

When Ashe walks up, it’s a relief to see a friendly face.

“How’s your charity project coming along?” Ashe asks, all flushed and freckled.

Sylvain gives him a thumbs up. “Going great!” 

“Why is your face so red?” 

“Do you even need to ask? It’s all the kissing!” Sylvain resists the urge to cover his stinging cheeks. “It’s exciting, even for an old pro like me.”

Ashe tits his head and squints. “But the mark is shaped like a handprint.”

Now Sylvain turns away. “Hey now, no judgment!” Better to let Ashe think it’s a fetish than a failing. 

“I would never!” Ashe shakes his head and flushes deeper.

“Now, are we just going to stand around or are you going to kiss it better?” Sylvain asks, patting the still-stinging mark on his cheek.

Ashe fishes around in the pocket of his jeans and pulls out a coin. “Well, um, since, I’m here...”

“That’s the spirit!” Things are finally starting to look up, and then instead of kissing Sylvain’s cheek, Ashe presents his own.  _ Well! _ Just like Ashe himself, it’s both bold and demure, and Sylvain’s eyes light up. He plants a kiss on a particularly cute patch of freckles.

“Soft…” Ashe breathes out, and Sylvain wonders if that was his first kiss. He doesn’t ask. 

“Exfoliation, my friend.” Sylvain squeezes his shoulder. “But your skin’s pretty nice, too!”

“T-thanks!” Ashe shuffles his feet, drops his donation into the basket, and leaves with a shaky wave.

He’s so adorable scampering off that there’s a real blush under the handprints on Sylvain’s face now.

Ingrid snaps him out of it before he can drive too far down memory lane.

“I had a feeling you were asking for trouble with this kissing booth."

Sylvain puts a hand to his chest. “Who, me? I can’t help it if I inspire passion!” 

“Passion? Ingrid eyes his cheek skeptically, but Sylvain catches sight of money in her hands. 

He grins. “Here for a sample?” 

“Just how hard did those girls slap you? I’m here to donate.” She thrusts her money into the basket like it's the last thing she wants to do and kisses him on the lips with the same energy.

Sylvain doesn’t have a sister, but if he did, kissing her would probably feel like this. It’s fine—he loves Ingrid—but there’s no chemistry there.  From the look on her face when she pulls away, she feels the same way. 

“Well, that’s done.” Ingrid nods, all business. “Good luck, Sylvain. And don't say I didn't warn you if you end up at the nurse's office.”

That wouldn't be so bad. Nurse Manuela's pretty hot. Sylvain loses himself in a daydream of her tending to his wounds until a small hand waves in front of his face. 

“Oh!” He blinks, and a head of bright red hair lies just south of his peripheral vision. “Hey, Annette.”

“You all right?” she asks, eyebrows knitted with concern. “You look kind of out of it!”

He shakes his head and summons a smile. “Must be getting light-headed from all this loving!” 

Annette lets out a good-natured laugh. “Well, I can’t resist mistletoe, so I hope you can handle a little more love!” With another giggle, she produces a coin from behind her back. This day just keeps getting better and better.

“I can always handle more,” Sylvain assures her. He leans down—way down, Annette’s tiny—over the table and puckers his lips. Gentle as a breeze, Annette closes the distance with a soft, lingering kiss. She doesn’t have an insincere bone in her body, and guilt prickles at Sylvain’s gut as he returns the kiss. 

Annette pulls back, her eyes crinkling in the adorable way they always do. She can handle herself just fine, and she drops her donation in the basket. “That was fun!” 

Kissing his friends, it turns out, is way more fun than kissing conquests. 

Even a platonic kiss from Mercedes crackles with electricity and leaves him wanting more. 

“You’re good at that,” she says with a sweet smile. "Maybe a little too good!"

“Not as good as you, and you know I don’t say that lightly!” Sylvain strokes his chin, lowers his eyelids to be enticing. “We better try again, to make sure it’s not just a coincidence.”

“I’m afraid this is all the money I have right now, but even if I had more, I would still say no.” She drops some money into his basket, smile never wavering. “I’ll see you later!”

If Mercedes leaves him confused, Dedue’s mere presence throws him for a total loop. 

“I have donated to all of our friends’ projects.” And with that, he drops a coin into the basket, then takes Sylvain’s face in both hands and kisses his lips with a tenderness that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Thanks, man,” Sylvain exhales when Dedue pulls back. 

“It was no trouble.” Dedue reaches up to touch the mistletoe. “ _ Viscum album. _ I’ve heard it is a symbol of fertility.”

Sylvain’s eyes go wide—he’s all for chasing girls, but he definitely doesn’t want to see any babies running around (or crawling, or whatever babies do) with his hair and eyes. “I don’t know about fertility,” he says. “I’m just trying to earn some money for charity.”

“That is probably for the best.” 

Dedue heads back to the bake sale tables, but before Sylvain can stray from his own table to peruse the goods, Dimitri walks up.  _ Just when I thought today couldn’t get any better,  _ Sylvain thinks.

“Seems like you’re getting lots of donations, Sylvain.” Dimitri’s already blushing, like he's even greener than Ashe. “I trust you’re conducting yourself with proper decorum?”

“What can I say?” Sylvain stretches his arms out over the table and smirks. “I aim to please.”

Dimitri purses his lips. "I hope you mean that metaphorically." 

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," says Sylvain with a shrug. 

Dimitri shakes his head but he pulls two coins— _Best idea ever!—_ out of his pocket and rubs them together between his thumb and forefinger like a nervous habit. “As the head of the Blue Lions, it is my duty to support all of my housemates’ endeavors.” 

“Of course,” says Sylvain, fighting the urge to call out Dimitri’s flimsy excuse. “And I’d be happy to give you some pointers on your technique if you want.”

That makes Dimitri flush even deeper. “I, uh, suppose I'm open to suggestions, if anything sticks out to you.”

He makes it too easy. “Oh, if you open up, I’ll stick it out, all right.”

“Sylvain…” Dimitri sighs through his nose, exasperated, and even though Sylvain’s already pushed it too far, he can always push it further.

“Say my name again.” 

This time, Dimitri’s lips part and his eyes go wide. “Sylvain?”

It’s the perfect opening, and Sylvain grabs him by the shirt, crushing their lips together. Ever-ready, Dimitri kisses back twice as hard, and it’s only Sylvain’s height that saves him from falling backward. They keep their tongues to themselves, but it’d be a stretch to call this kiss  _ chaste. _ It’s certainly good enough to sate Sylvain’s curiosity, but it seems like Dimitri’s been wondering, too.

“You didn’t hold back, I'll give you that!” Sylvain offers Dimitri a couple of slow claps. “No complaints here, though you may want to ease up a bit for someone shorter than me, yeah?”

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Dimitri asks, mortified. 

Sylvain shakes his head. “Nah, but I’d use that line. Girls love that  _ I don’t know my own strength _ stuff.” 

“I...I’ll consider it.” Dimitri drops his coins in the basket, hand shaking. Sylvain can’t remember the last time he’s seen Dimitri so flustered, and it stokes his selfish pride, as does Dimitri's awkward nod. “Uh, thank you for your service to the Blue Lions.”

“No, thank _you,_ ” Sylvain fires back with a wink. 

There isn’t much to report after Dimitri. A kiss here, a glare there, and Sylvain’s getting bored. He’s been trying as hard as he can not to think of Felix, because he isn’t coming back, but even some cake from the bake sale isn’t enough to distract Sylvain from his sinking heart. 

Time’s about up anyway, and the other students are taking their booths down. With a sigh, Sylvain starts collapsing his own sign.

“There.” That’s all the warning he gets before a shower of coins clink into his basket and a voice he knows better than his own adds, “Don’t say I never do anything for you.”

Words fail Sylvain when he meets Felix’s eyes, but only for a moment. “Wow, thanks!”

“I’m only doing this for the shelter.” Felix crosses his arms and adds, “You’re still donating to the shelter, right?”

“For that kind of cash, I’ll donate anywhere you want!” Felix’s donation is easily twice what Sylvain made all day—not that he’s going to volunteer that information.

A frustrated noise escapes Felix’s lips, lips Sylvain can’t stop staring at, and Sylvain prepares himself for a lecture. Instead, Felix massages his temples and sighs. “No, I’m sorry. It’s your project. Donate the money wherever you want.” 

He turns away and Sylvain grabs for his hand. “Wait, at least let me thank you!” 

Felix freezes. Slowly, he looks back at Sylvain, like a cornered kitten. Hands and eyes locked, the moment feels critical. Make or break. Sylvain’s been waiting for this all day, but if he says something crass or moves too fast, Felix is going to bolt. Then again, if he says the right thing and smiles just right, then maybe, just maybe…

Felix shakes his hand free. “Just don’t donate to something stupid.” 

He walks away, and Sylvain doesn't know how, but he knows he blew it. Raking a hand through his hair, he cries out, “You didn’t get your kiss!”

Maybe it’s just his imagination, but Felix starts walking faster.

Well, at least the fundraiser was a success. Sylvain empties the basket into one of the cash boxes the professor provided. Felix’s words stick with him— _ Donate the money wherever you want. _ The shelter is fine and animals are great, but that’s  _ Felix’s _ thing, not his. 

Sylvain doesn’t have a thing, except for being bitter and rejecting societal and parental expectations. 

Not exactly worthy causes.

He’s still mulling it over when he gets back to the second floor dorms. If he wants to get back in the school's good graces, he should pander and donate the money to the church. Oh, the archbishop would just eat that up, but somehow, he doesn’t think it would impress Professor Byleth.

“Sylvain.” Felix’s voice always breaks through his thoughts. He’s standing in his room with his arms behind his back. “You’re getting sloppy.”

“Huh?” Sylvain comes to a stop in front of his door and Felix produces the cluster of mistletoe from his booth. 

“I took this while we were talking. What if someone had just walked up and snatched your money?”

“But you didn’t steal my money.” Sylvain's eyes zero in on the mistletoe even as he tries not to read too much into it. “You stole my mistletoe.”

“That’s not the point!”

But the beginnings of a blush bloom on Felix’s cheeks and so blossoms Sylvain’s swagger. “Isn’t it?” Sylvain saunters into Felix’s room and puts his things down. Face to face, it’s easy to forget Felix is shorter than him. Spite adds at least 10 centimeters. “You also gave me money. I’m starting to think you had an ulterior motive.”

“You were thinking?” Felix retorts. "There's your problem."

But they both know Sylvain thinks too much; those lines and excuses don’t happen by accident (though they’ve become frighteningly automatic). Half the stuff he does is to distract himself from his thoughts. Fun Sylvain doesn’t have time for guilt and responsibility.

“What do you propose instead?” Sylvain asks, not out of guilt or in jest. He truly wants to know.

Felix crumples the mistletoe in his fist (he’s never been very good at directing his rage), shards of dry leaves fluttering to the floor. It’ll be a nightmare to clean up, Sylvain thinks, but then Felix’s hand is on his chin and there’s nothing left to think about at all.

In Sylvain’s dreams (the ones he never tells anyone about), Felix attacks, a raw and feral predator with only one target. In reality, Felix hesitates, meek when their lips are a hair’s breadth apart. Sylvain makes up the difference. 

All day, all his life, Sylvain’s lips have lied, experimented, explored, and played, but this kiss? 

This kiss soothes and reassures, offers possibilities over empty promises, lays out their past, present, and future. It’s long hours spent lamenting lost brothers and lost causes, growing and changing but never growing apart, and Sylvain’s confidence drains because he’s never kissed anyone like this before. 

Felix makes up the difference with strong arms around his back and soft nips at his mouth. It's fighting and making up, acceptance and forgiveness and _Goddess, that's his tongue,_ speaking words that never made sense until this very moment, bridging years of friendship and jealousy and feelings neither of them are ready to name (let alone process).

Maybe Felix was right to save this for his room, away from prying eyes to catch Sylvain twisting a stray lock of Felix’s hair around his finger, far from interloping ears to hear the soft noises Felix makes. Not because Sylvain doesn’t want to get caught but because if the world happens to end here and now, he has everything he needs.

Felix pulls back, lips shining and eyes dark, and pounds the heel of his hand into Sylvain’s chest. It doesn’t hurt, but there’s an ache just the same.

“You always had to find every single item in every game we played,” Felix mutters. He shakes his hair out of his eyes. 

“Huh?” Sylvain’s heart pounds out of sync. What does that have to do with anything? Unless... “You think I’m just collecting kisses?”

“If I knew what you were trying to do, I wouldn’t...” But a grunt derails Felix’s thought and he turns away. “Congratulations, to you and whatever charity you pick.”

Sylvain half-expects an  _ I hope you’ll be very happy together,  _ and really, he deserves this. And maybe deep down, part of Sylvain really does think he needs to kiss the entire Blue Lion house to prove a point or check a box. How could Felix think anything else when Sylvain’s never given anyone a reason to think differently?

But if anyone should know him better, it’s Felix. 

“This isn’t a game to me.” 

Felix just stares back. It’s not going to get better tonight, but it’s a start. 

It’s not Felix on his mind as Sylvain drifts off to sleep; it’s Miklan and Glenn, war and peace, and biding his time playing video games with Felix so they don’t have to think.

Okay, Felix never escapes his thoughts entirely. It makes for a restless night, but in the morning, he knows where to donate his money. 

The archbishop won’t like it. Holy wars fill her coffers, but Sylvain puts his money toward peace. 

Professor Byleth gives him his highest grade all year, Felix smiles, and it's a good start.

**Author's Note:**

> Are all my FE3H fics going to have Carly Ray Jepsen titles? Probably.
> 
> Did I write this just so Sylvain could kiss everyone in the Blue Lions? Definitely.


End file.
